“Hmm.” A thought leapt to the forefront of my mind, unbidden. I almost didn’t hear Anna when she went on.
“He’s never been beaten. I dare say he is as fast now as he was at fifteen, though he’s not quite so skinny any more.”
A tingling shiver swept through me. I’d been on the rodeo circuit during my high school days. I’d been blessed to win the barrel race every single time I’d entered. Aunt Donna used to say God had gifted me with speed. “Your brother has never lost a race?”
Anna’s eyes were shining. “Never. What are you thinking? Oh, your face is glowing so.”
I shook my head, afraid to say anything. For the moment. I linked my arm through hers and dismissed any lingering thoughts of the missing ball and our brief conversation about Andrew’s indifference or lack thereof. “I have a sudden urge to visit the stables.”
Ella, tired of being out-of-doors, didn’t accompany us. Anna was a gracious hostess and obviously knew her way around. After a cursory walk through, I felt my heart sinking. Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all.
Of the many horses in the Howarths’ stable, there was only one – a chestnut mare – that looked as if she could outrun Andrew’s gelding. But she was nearly bursting at the seams with a foal that should be coming soon. She was Andrew’s pride, Anna informed me. The foal’s sire was a horse that had won several sweepstakes and Gold Cup races.
Sigh.
My only other chance stood with a well-proportioned dapple gray stallion. He was shorter than Andrew’s gelding by several hands, but there was fire in his eyes. I didn’t prefer stallions, with their extra feistiness. In this case, it looked like my only choice.
“He’s never seated a woman,” Anna told me, her face earnest.
“Well, you never know until you try, right?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it, miss,” said the groom when Anna informed him that I wanted to ride. I insisted. It was the only way I stood a chance of challenging Andrew.
I had severe second thoughts when the groom brought out my stallion wearing a funky saddle with only one stirrup and a pommel unlike any I’d seen before. “What is that?” I hissed in Anna’s ear. I pretended to adjust my bonnet and hoped the groom hadn’t heard me.
“A saddle, Miss Mattie.” Her dancing eyes and quivering lips said it all.
“No, I’ve ridden on English saddles before and they don’t have pommels like that.”
Anna’s brow wrinkled. “What is a pommel?”
Before I could open my mouth to put my foot further in it, Andrew and his companion rode around the side of the stable, their horses dark with perspiration. Our eyes connected and I felt the familiar jolt of awareness zing through me, quivering my stomach. I broke the contact first, but then my eyes fell on the weird saddle and I knew this was going to end badly.
“What is going on?”
Could their be any more derision in his voice?
“Miss Mattie is going for a ride.” Anna seemed to take pleasure in announcing my intentions. Now I had to ride or be humiliated.
“On Belvidere?”
I shot him a glare that I hoped said to leave us alone. It didn’t work.
He rode his gelding closer, almost blocking me from the stallion. “I must insist you choose another mount, Miss Briggs.”
“Why?” I challenged, raising my chin. If he thought I would change my mind just because he said so, he had another thing coming. I didn’t look at him directly in the eye, knowing if I did, he would have some kind of power over me. Instead, over his shoulder, I met the gaze of his friend, who seemed to be enjoying the fact that I’d challenged Andrew. Sharing a glance with the stranger gave me the courage to smile at Andrew and walk around him, to the stallion.
Andrew's perpetual frown deepened into a scowl. “I can assure you he will be too much for you to handle.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” I turned my cheek away, so I wouldn't have Andrew in my peripheral vision. I would ignore anything else he had to say to rebuff me.
I whispered to the groom to help me get in the saddle. He boosted me up and Anna, the scamp, slipped to the opposite side of the horse from her brother. She quickly motioned me how to adjust my leg and skirt.
Oh. A sidesaddle.
The posture it required was more than awkward. I probably wouldn’t be able to stand the slight twist in my back for long, but I was on the horse. For now. Even though the groom held on to the bridle, the horse shifted uneasily beneath me.
“At least you’re wearing your worst dress,” Anna said cheerfully from below me. “When you fall, it won’t matter if you get dirty.”
Her words had the affect she must have intended, because I found my balance and grinned at her. “I won’t fall.”
The groom released his hold and the stallion skittered to the side, nearly unseating me. I gripped him with my one knee as best I could. Apparently he thought that meant go, because he bolted. My bonnet flew off the back of my head and nearly choked me with its tie. I shook my head, and felt my hair flow out behind me.
The stallion galloped past the house, but I gained the upper hand before we escaped to the moor. I slowed him to a walk when thundering hoofbeats announced that Andrew followed us. From the storm brewing in his face, he wasn’t happy that I’d gotten my way. Or maybe just that I’d calmed the stallion myself.
I smiled sweetly at him, batting my lashes just a bit. “Yes? Did I forget something?”
He stared at me, his almost transparent blue eyes unreadable. A muscle jumped along his jawline. I told myself that it was the adrenaline and not his eyes that made my pulse thunder in my ears. He wheeled his horse and left without another word. I pretended not to care. But my traitorous hands still ached to run through his dark locks.
Instead, I nudged the stallion into a trot, then a canter and didn’t look back.
###
A half hour later, my temper cooled by the crisp afternoon air, I wished for home. For Oklahoma.
Sure, the moors were beautiful. Raw, even. But a big part of me longed for the flat plains of my hometown, where a person could see into the next county.
Minnie would be furious if I skipped dinner, so I talked myself into returning. Before I got very far, I came upon a small boy crouching over something on the ground. He looked up with a tearstained face when I came close.
My first instinct was to hug the poor thing. Dirt and tears smeared his face his clothes were old, stained. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, if his height and size were any indication.
“What’s wrong?”
“M-my dog. He’s 'urt.”
I dismounted and knelt beside the boy. A little red and white dog, a spaniel from the looks of it, stood with head hung low, one of its back legs dragging the ground unnaturally. I ran a hand along the dog’s spine first. It looked up at me with those pitiful spaniel eyes and I knew I wouldn’t make it back to Howarth Park in time for dinner.
“When did this happen?” I asked, keeping my voice calm in hopes the boy would stay that way, too.
“Just a bit ago.” He sniffled.
A little more probing with my fingers confirmed that the dog’s hip was dislocated. I resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it would probably upset the boy. A hip like this could probably be popped right back in if I had another adult with me.
“I tried to carry him to Howarth Park, but ’m not strong enough.” Now I took a longer look at the boy. He was so pale and thin that I wondered when he’d had his last meal.
“Don’t worry.” I touched the boy’s shoulder. “I know just what to do. We’ll have him fixed in no time.” Hopefully.
It took some doing, but I managed to fashion a sort of sling with my jacket. With the dog tucked inside it, I was ready to get on the stallion again. I breathed a prayer that he would let me on without any tricks. And he did, though it took me two tries with the skirt, sidesaddle and my bundle conspiring against me.
I reached down and hooked my
arm with the boy’s. With a heave, I swung him up behind me. His stick-thin arms clutched me around the middle, cutting of part of my air supply. I didn’t tell him to loosen his hold.
I held the stallion to a trot, afraid I’d bounce the boy off if we went any faster. We’d just crossed the lawn and pulled up to the stable when a tall figure stepped out of the darkened doorway.
Andrew.
Chapter 6
The set of Andrew’s jaw told me he was still angry. And worried, judging by the lines in his forehead. The first thing he noticed was the boy.
“Simon. What’s the matter?”
The boy sniffled and began to cry again. Andrew reached for him, at the same time looking to me, concern written in his eyes.
“His dog is hurt.” I kept one arm protectively around the bundle I carried. Andrew set the boy down and reached up for me.
His wide hands at my waist lifted me down easily and steadied me on my feet. I prayed that he couldn’t feel how I trembled, or that he would think it was from cold. I’d given up my jacket to wrap the dog, after all. He released me and the connection between us faded. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his face, thinking I could read in his eyes that he felt it too.
He motioned to the bundle I clutched against my stomach. “What is wrong with the dog?”
Shadows filled the stable. This was no place to work. “Is there somewhere we can go that would have better light?” I asked, loath to move away from Andrew and his warmth.
“The kitchen.” He ushered me forward and led the boy with a hand on his shoulder. Inside, the kitchen smelled of bread and cooked meat. Its warmth sent a shiver down my back. My stomach grumbled, but I ignored it.
I unwrapped the dog and laid a gentle hand against its shaking shoulders. When I looked up at Andrew, I found an expression on his face that I’d never seen before – could it be respect? Whatever it was, it made my insides tremble.
“Do you have anything we could use as a painkiller?” He looked at me blankly. “To numb his leg?” I wracked my brain, trying to remember my classes on the history of medicine. “Opium?”
Finally, his face lit with recognition. “Laudanum.”
He left and returned a moment later with a small bottle. “How much?”
I hid my surprise at his helpfulness. “How much would you give a small boy like this?” I motioned to Simon. “Now half that, and then half again.”
Carefully, we administered the laudanum. The dog didn’t go completely under, and that was just fine with me. I worried that if we gave him too much, he would die. But I also needed his muscles to be relaxed enough to pop that leg back in.
Softly, I explained to Andrew what we needed to do, while the boy looked on with earnest fear. “Simon, I’m going to need your help. I want you to hold on to my waist – here—” I positioned him behind me, where he wouldn’t be able to see what Andrew and I were doing. “Hold on tightly.”
I caught my breath when he took me literally. His face pressed into my back. “Now wait until I tell you, then we’ll pull together.”
I met Andrew’s eyes and dared to wink. In response, his eyes crinkled at the corners.
With the dog between us, I took his large hands in mine and linked them beneath the animal’s thigh. It was hard to keep my focus with his nearness distracting me. The smell of horses clung to us, but I could also smell his scent, something spicy. I didn’t look up into his face again.
Carefully, I twisted and tugged the dog’s leg, while Andrew held him immobile. It took a few minutes, and finally, with a muffled pop, the leg slid back into place. Triumphant, I lifted my eyes to Andrew’s, amazed when he responded with a smile. It changed his whole face, softening the lines around his shapely mouth.
“All right, Simon,” I said softly. “On three. One, two, three.” He gave me a mighty pull on my waist. Afterward, I guided him back to his dog with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “He’ll probably be tired for a while. And you’ll need to watch him closely for the next few days. Make sure he doesn’t run too much or jump around and hurt himself again.”
The boy nodded gravely. He wiped his sleeve across his face, smearing the tears and dirt that darkened his skin.
Now that our task was complete, I began to notice the kitchen’s activity going on all around us. Servants hustled food out of the room, probably going to the dining room. My own stomach growled, reminding me that I’d missed luncheon as well. It was too late to get dressed and make it down for the evening meal. Plus, there was the issue of what to do with Simon. I couldn’t just leave him to walk home.
Andrew apparently had the same thought. “Let’s see if cook can spare some food for us.”
Of course she could, and she set us up with three steaming plates at a small table in a corner of the room. Before Andrew joined us, I heard him ask her in a low voice to prepare something to send to Simon’s family. Our eyes locked above the boy’s head and I lowered my gaze, ashamed to be caught eavesdropping. Andrew’s kindness warmed me from the inside out. Even more than coming into the kitchen from outdoors.
Until I remembered that he hadn’t wanted to help Minnie and me because of the scandals.
Thoughts of my secret plan ran through my head. I’d nearly forgotten about it with Andrew's helpfulness and the way he’d looked at me over Simon’s dog. But the reminder made me feel cold and numb. I didn’t look up for the rest of the meal that we shared in silence.
###
It took three days for the rest of my plan to work out. Three days in which I noticed every aching moment that Andrew came near.
He played cards with the group in the evenings, and our hands tangled over the deck. Sparks shot up my arm.
Our eyes met across the breakfast table, his shining with warmth.
One evening as Tristan regaled us with tales from their childhoods, I memorized Andrew’s laugh, a low delicious chuckle that felt like a good piece of dark chocolate.
I finally resorted to escaping the room just before or after he entered. Each interaction made me want to like him.
And I couldn’t afford to like him, not with the way he felt about my sister and I.
At last, a sunny morning dawned and I convinced Anna and Ella to come riding. After saddling up, we quickly overtook Andrew and Tristan, just as planned.
Andrew rode with elegant grace, a natural horseman. I noticed his hands as they clasped the reins and folded over one leg, relaxed. The memory of how his hands had felt in mine – large and powerful and gentle at the same time – flashed through my mind. I pushed it away, unwilling to be distracted from my purpose.
I drew my gaze away from Andrew with an effort and surveyed the scenery. Yes, this was the landscape I remembered from my previous ride. If I turned my head, I could see the spire of the church, about a half mile away. A haze covered the moors this morning, as the sun burned off the dampness from the previous few days. I took a deep breath of the fresh, wet air, while I tried to bolster my courage.
The men put up with our feminine chattering for a few minutes but soon it looked as if they wanted to be rid of us. Now or never.
“Mr. Howarth,” I waited until he looked at me. Unfortunately, so did the whole group. Heat slid into my face.
“What a nice morning for a race. Don't you think?”
A flash of surprise crossed his face before he quickly masked it. “That sounds a bit like a challenge, Miss Briggs.”
“It was intended to be.”
His eyes narrowed, the only sign that my words affected him. “I'm afraid I do not race with members of the fairer sex.”
“Maybe you could humor me, just this once.” My stallion sidestepped, as if sensing the waves of tension churning between us. My chin rose. “Of course, if you're afraid of losing to a girl…”
His jaw flexed. He reined his gelding around until we were face to face and I almost shrank from the fire flashing in his eyes. For a brief moment no one else existed, only Andrew and I and the connection that we shared.
<
br /> He broke the stare first and glanced off to the distance. “I would not wish to embarrass a guest or a dear niece of a family friend.”
He faced the direction we would be starting from, and I did not. I forced my face to remain neutral, not to reveal my anticipation. Everything was falling into place. “I won’t be embarrassed when I win.”
His eyes flashed again. “Name the course.”
Yes! I jutted my chin toward my right shoulder. “To the church.” Belvidere shook his head, the reins pulling against my hand. He was ready to go. I patted his neck and willed him to wait just a moment more.
“Would you care to make a wager?”
Oooh. Not in the plan. But interesting. What would cause Andrew the most harm when I won? My mind flew over the conversations Anna and I had shared in the last few days, trying to think of something that would humiliate him. “Your terms?”
“A kiss.”
My stomach reacted first, dropping to my knees. What? A gasp from one of the girls reminded me that we weren’t alone. I didn’t look away from Andrew, pride reminding me of my purpose. “Agreed.” Was that my voice?
“And if you win?” He looked so sure of himself, so arrogant, that I ached to show him up. This was going to be fun.
“A dance!” I didn’t wait to see the surprise on his face before wheeling my stallion around with a nudge to his side.
We passed close to Andrew’s gelding and the hem of my skirt flipped up in the stiff breeze. I allowed it to flutter loose and was rewarded when Andrew's gelding whinnied and reared.
The stallion needed no more urging to take off in a smooth gallop. I entertained a momentary hope that Andrew had been unseated, but when I heard a strong “hyah!” from behind, I knew the race was on.
I didn’t glance back. If I got off balance I probably wouldn’t be able to right myself and would slip off the horse. At this speed, I’d probably break something if I fell.
The moor slipped by in a blur of green beneath me. Cool wind burned my cheeks and whipped my hair from its bun until it flew loose behind me. I leaned close to the stallion’s neck, trying to give us the least wind resistance possible. Moving as one, we cleared the first stone hurdle with ease. Then the second.
Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed Page 11